


Vicissitude

by stephanericher



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:21:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: Hunk doesn’t like giving up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Vicissitude: Unexpected change in fortune or circumstances

Hunk doesn’t like giving up. Okay, he really doesn’t like giving up, but unlike some people he knows when something’s a lost cause and he should just cut his losses, disregard the blows to his pride as much as he can, and retreat. And right now, logically that’s what he should be doing; logically he knows his chances with Lance are slim-to-none and lately they’ve grown closer to the none side, kind of like those calculus limits as time increases, reaching the point where they might as well be zero.

Maybe it was that way from the start, but it hadn’t seemed like it; every time Hunk would reassess and tell himself that Lance likes a certain type of woman and certainly not a guy like him he’d get something new, some reason to believe. Like sometimes, back when they were at the Garrison, Lance would look at him. It wouldn’t be an ordinary look or a stare like something was on Hunk’s face or that confused look he gets when Hunk is getting too deep into mechanical engineering too quickly and Lance has already stopped understanding (well, okay, sometimes Lance would give him those looks, too). His eyes would be soft and he’d be leaning in as if that 20-20 vision he’s so proud of had started to decay already, like he’d gotten caught up in something rather than just staring into space. Maybe it had been mostly wishful thinking, but Hunk’s overanalyzing brain had taken that as an indicator of interest and ran with it.

Once, Lance had asked Hunk if he ever though he liked guys. Hunk’s instinct was to reply that yeah, actually, like right now, but he’d held off for a second and Lance had muttered a denial and tried to change the subject, and, well. It had been a little too close, a little deeper than Hunk had been willing to go with Lance at the time, and neither of them had ever brought it up again (and Lance had kept unsuccessfully hitting on women with the same intensity) and that had been that. Hunk had wondered anyway, if Lance had guessed. He’d told himself that it was more likely a moment of sexual confusion, but the hopeful half of his brain still wouldn’t give up on it, that maybe it had meant something with a capital s.

Alone, it wouldn’t have, but along with those looks and along with how physical Lance used to get with him, even the rational part of Hunk’s brain would pipe up that maybe there was something. And yeah, Lance is physical with everyone, but he’d always lean on Hunk or throw his arm around Hunk’s shoulders or grab his wrist to get his attention or drape himself over Hunk in one of his frequent moments of melodrama. And Hunk’s heard people tell him he’s physically inviting and easy to be with, and maybe that’s part of it. And looking at the way things are now, that’s probably a lot of it.

Now Lance isn’t nearly as physical with Hunk as he’d been before, back in school or even after they’d first gotten here. He’s not reaching for him as much, leaning on him as much. In a metaphorical sense that’s probably a good thing, that he’s branching outside of their friendship and looking to everyone else more, spending time with Keith and Coran in particular, physically leaning on them more and on Hunk less. It’s not that he’s jealous in more than a platonic way, even though he knows he shouldn’t even feel that. It’s good and natural, but it puts everything in a different place in retrospective. Until Pidge came along it was just the two of them, and she’d always held them at arm’s length; Lance is the kind of person who needs a certain level of physical and emotional closeness, and before now Hunk had really been his only source. That’s it; there’s never been any real romantic context to it and Hunk had let his emotions get to him.

But if that’s really it, why is it so hard to give up? (It doesn’t matter, really. What matters is that he does, because this little crush thing is just going to keep getting bigger and more unwieldy and Hunk is not going to let it interfere with their ability to form Voltron; Zarkon is not going to win just because he can’t let go of this thing, okay?)

A sharp rap sounds at the door, a sharp rap in a rhythm he knows all too well.

“Come in.”

Lance pushes open the door; his other hand is jammed deep into his pocket like he’s trying too hard to look casual; it’s always been a cute look on him but now it just seems kind of unfairly adorable. He glances up to meet Hunk’s eyes and then almost shifts his gaze away, and okay, something’s definitely up (especially since he’s closing the door quietly behind him).

“Sit down?” Hunk says, and usually he never has to ask.

At least the question is still enough for Lance to walk over and flop down next to him on the bed, kicking his legs out before his feet come to rest on the floor again. Hunk bites back a laugh, and then Lance throws his arm around Hunk’s shoulders and Hunk can smell that cheap cologne that he somehow still carries on him (and even after they’ve been in space for so long he’s still got enough to wear here) and it’s always smelled so stupid but kind of good to him, too, and this isn’t helping but Hunk supposes right now nothing would.

“Is everything okay?” says Lance. “You’ve been kind of tense lately.”

Well. Maybe Lance does know. Maybe Hunk’s just no good at hiding his feelings; maybe it’s because they’re all part of Voltron. (Maybe Lance just pays more attention than Hunk gives him credit for.) Still, if he wants to know—if Hunk promises he’ll let it go—Lance is Lance. If he doesn’t understand, he’ll try; he’s a good enough person and a good enough friend not to really hold it against Hunk (and that’s one of the reasons not liking him like this is so damn hard). Hunk takes a deep breath.

“Lance—”

He falters; how does he says it? There must be something telling in his voice, because Lance takes his arm back and his face falls, and maybe this is something else.

“Shit,” says Lance. “You know, huh?”

Okay, it’s definitely something else.

“Know what?”

And then Lance’s eyes widen; he’s going into panic mode and glancing from side to side, but what’s he going to do? Is he going to just get up and go? Crush notwithstanding, Hunk’s starting to feel a little bit curious at what’s exactly up with Lance.

“What is it? You can’t just leave me hanging like that.”

Lance is fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Why don’t you tell me what’s up? We weren’t talking about me.”

“Because it’s clearly not as urgent as whatever’s up with you. Come on, Lance, this can’t be worse than the time you tried to enlist me in hacking into the flight simulator—”

His voice drops off a cliff when Lance doesn’t laugh, doesn’t crack a smile or even look up, presses his fingertips closer to each other and bends his fingers as if he’s just discovering that he has them for the first time and okay, this is something serious.

“Lance.”

He looks up at that, sucking in his breath, eyes wide. Hunk reaches over to pat him on the shoulder and Lance accepts it, almost curling into the touch.

“I kinda like you.”

The words are run together, as if Lance wants Hunk not to hear it or ask for clarification (but how could he not hear it?) and just accept it and move on, like he thinks Hunk doesn’t reciprocate—and okay, maybe the hide-your-feelings approach had worked a little too well, but how was Hunk supposed to know Lance would reciprocate?

Wait, Lance reciprocates. Lance likes him, too. And he still hasn’t said anything.

“I’m—I—I really don’t want this to, you know, affect anything,” Lance says, giving Hunk a sheepish grin he doesn’t mean at all.

“You like me,” Hunk repeats. “Like, you like-like me. You want to kiss me and stuff.”

(Just to be sure.)

“Yeah,” says Lance. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, good,” says Hunk. “Because I like you like that.”

The look on Lance’s face is perfect (Hunk’s not the kind of guy who says the person he likes looks perfect all the time, and this isn’t like that at all, but the surprise and excitement hit his face like a tsunami, rearranging everything until it lights up and Hunk’s not going to be sappy about this except he totally is because Lance’s face looks absolutely gorgeous like this).

Lance’s arm snakes around Hunk’s waist and he snuggles closer, resting his head in the crook of Hunk’s shoulder as if that’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time. (And maybe it has, and thinking about that makes Hunk’s stomach start doing all sorts of gymnastics inside.) Hunk lets his hand come to rest against the small of Lance’s back, relishing the small sound he makes at the touch and the way it makes him lean in even more. They still have more to talk about, but it can wait until later; right now this is enough to process.

**Author's Note:**

> done for a prompt on tumblr; i'm still taking them (u can see the full vocab list [here](http://stephanericherthanyou.tumblr.com/post/150825123294/vocabulary-prompts)) so feel free to send (may result in full-length fic or something shorter fyi)!
> 
> also idk how i did with hunk's pov so any thoughts on that would be appreciated~


End file.
